


Forgiveness

by martiniglass



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Interacting with Personas, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-12 07:34:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11157210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/martiniglass/pseuds/martiniglass
Summary: -Minor Spoilers for a Game Mechanic-“Such a foolish master,” he said, the swell of negative emotions coursing through him. “You should be saving your tears for something that truly deserves them.”





	Forgiveness

**Author's Note:**

> Because the electric chair really messed with me when I did a second play-through. That's why this exists. To everyone wondering why I've not posted the last chapter of "LaSoC", I'm so sorry for taking so long. I won't bore you with details but life went down and it dragged me down with it. But I'm back and, while replaying the game for some inspiration, I wrote this little thing to get the juices flowing.
> 
> I promise that I'll post the last chapter for "LaSoC" soon. But while I tackle that monster that simply refuses to play nice, please enjoy this! The personas have so much more personalities this time around, it's hard not the play with that idea. Not written to be romantic but hey, I can't tell you what to think. Let me know what you think and have a wonderful day/evening.

****“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”  
  
The cells within his Master’s heart were horrendously cramped and uncomfortable; barely lit with iron bars covered with rust. Even with the bright desk in the middle, the prison that his Master kept himself trapped in was designed to be as soul-crushing and as bleak as possible.  
  
Arsene shifted and twitched when he felt both of his wings press up against the walls. With his height, he’d been forced to his knees in order to be anything close to comfortable, causing his heels to rest awkwardly underneath the poor excuse of a bed that was pushed to the far wall behind him. Even his hat had been forced off so as not to crush it flat against the ceiling. All in all, it must have made for quite the hilarious sight; a persona nearly double his Master’s height squeezing himself into the tiny cell. The two wardens, he couldn’t be bothered with their names, were blatantly staring at the sight and Arsene glowered back at them.  
  
The one on the left looked upon him with something very close to pity while the one on the right had a smirk that he was very tempted to rip off her face. They were being horribly rude. His body bristling from the unwanted attention, he shifted again, ever mindful of the precious cargo held securely to his chest, and folded his wings over his front with a growl. He felt a flash of satisfaction at the squawk of protest from the little wardens at their entertainment being cut short and he held back a chuckle.  
  
“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to, I promise I didn’t.”  
  
Arsene tilted his head downwards and sighed. Cradled against him, his face hidden in Arsene’s ascot, his Master continued to beg for forgiveness. The persona could feel his Master’s emotions loop through a dark cycle, first to sorrow and self-loathing, then to a panicked fear, before settling back to sorrow and loathing to start the entire process over again. Keeping one clawed hand on his Master’s back, keeping him in place, Arsene ran his other hand ever so carefully over his Master’s cheek.  
  
“Such a foolish master,” he said, the swell of negative emotions coursing through him. “You should be saving your tears for something that truly deserves them.”  
  
His Master shook his head and tried to press even closer to him, his arms iron clad around his waist. “I shouldn’t have let them take you,” he whispered and Arsene resisted the urge to sigh again. “I shouldn’t have even thought about it! Nothing was worth hurting you!”  
  
Anger then, just a spark, towards the wardens and their own Master, for giving him the opportunity and the means. But before Arsene could rejoiced in the familiar feeling, the anger was washed away in yet another wave of self-hatred. There was a part of him, that part that felt what his Master felt and thought as his Master thought, that wanted to be annoyed. Showing such weakness in front of his captors and acting like a child for such a small thing, there was a part of him that wanted to push his Master away and force him to understand how idiotic he was being.  
  
But Arsene didn’t do any of those things.  
  
“Your protection and the safety of your allies are worth any suffering,” he said instead, running the very tips of his claws through his Master’s hair. His Master’s memories were his and so he knew how best to offer the shaking body comfort. “And I knew what had to be done and was prepared to face it. You did nothing that I did not approve of.”  
  
“And that’s suppose to make it better?” his Master demanded. Fingers, clawless and utterly harmless, dug into his back as fresh tears fell. “I can buy weapons! I can find them in Palaces and Mementos! I didn’t have to…”  
  
Arsene was silent as he watched and felt his Master fall apart, conceding to the fact that the only way progress would be made would be to let the boy tire himself out. His claws never pausing as they ran through his Master’s hair, Arsene glanced over the shell of his wings towards the object that had pushed his Master into the breakdown in the first place. Right in between the guillotines, behind the crooked man’s desk, the electric chair stood.  
  
He could understand why his Master felt such disgust at what they’d done. The chair had been uncomfortable by itself but it was the blue cloth that the wardens had thrown over him that had been the worst. Arsene didn’t need to breathe, he couldn’t even call what he was outside of his Master’s heart a being that was alive, but underneath the cloth he had felt a sort of breathlessness that could only be described as choking.  
  
He’d felt no fear in the chair, knowing that he’d be returned to his Master as soon as it was over. There was pain, yes, as electricity flowed through his form and the blackness that followed had been so boring. But within minutes, his Master had returned for him and Arsene had thought that the entire ordeal was done and over with it. Best to carry on and continue with whatever fusions needed to be done.  
  
But he’d returned to a Master in a panic, pressed against the bars of his cell with tears streaming down his face as he begged for Arsene’s forgiveness. And there they were, Master held against the servant’s chest as he wept and hated himself for what he’d done. Knowing that Arsene hadn’t minded and had acknowledged that his Master had done what needed to be done apparently gave him little comfort.  
  
Arsene sighed again and returned his gaze to said Master, who was now slowly starting to calm down. Be it from the claws in his hair or the exhaustion that naturally came from tears, Arsene didn’t know. A combination of both, most likely. His Master sniffled against him, all of his emotions settling down into a single thought.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he whispered and Arsene chuckled.  
  
“I am thou, thou art I,” he said and he knew that his Master was finally willing to listen by the way he raised his face from the now soaked ascot and looked up at him. “I am the other you and we are always connected. That is how I know that you will continue to regret sending me to the chair for many days to come.”  
  
His Master flinched but Arsene continued on, knowing that his Master was sometimes too stubborn in his self-hatred. “You feel as if you need my forgiveness for your actions and that I will hate you for the pain that I endured. You fear that I will abandon you, as many before you have done.”  
  
Underneath his hands, his Master began to shake and Arsene chuckled again, not unkindly. Humans as a whole were so stubborn and deaf to their own inner selves, it was no wonder that such confrontations were stressful for them. But despite knowing that it might send his Master into another emotional breakdown, Arsene knew what needed to be said.  
  
“I will allow you to regret creating my weapon,” he said, leaning down so that his mask rested atop his Master’s head. Clawed hands tightened their hold and he felt his Master go still. “I will allow you to hate the chair and I will even allow your tears for my pain.”  
  
He drew his wings in even closer, until all he or his Master could see were walls of black feathers. Until the cell and the wardens faded away. Until all that had his Master’s attention was him.  
  
“I will _never_ allow you to entertain the idiotic thought that I would _ever_ be parted from your side willingly,” he said, the earlier frustrations bleeding into his words ever so slightly. “I am not them. I know you and I am you, the you that will always be your rock in the storm and your shield against the poison of the world.”  
  
His Master’s eyes were wide and even though Arsene could feel the self-hatred bending to the truth of his words, tears were once again forming. But perhaps they too were necessary. They certainly didn’t feel as poisonous as the ones previously. Arsene stared down at his Master for a long moment, feeling through their connection and making sure that his Master understood his words.  
  
Finally, after far too long for his liking, Arsene felt the truth sink in its hooks and take root in his Master’s heart. Tears flowing down his cheeks, his Master hid his face in Arsene’s ascot once again and let out a shaky sob. Sighing with a mixture of relief and fondness, Arsene cradled his Master close.  
  
“You need not beg for forgiveness,” he whispered as his Master shook within his hands, safe under his protection. “For it will always be yours, my foolish master.”

**Author's Note:**

> Criticism is extremely welcomed, as well as comments! Thank you!


End file.
